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He gives me a confused look. “They were what?”
“It’s a breed of rabbit,” I explain. “They grow up to be huge . . . like the size of a dog. You know, like the easter bunny. Ever since that day, I wanted one. But my parents weren’t fans of the idea.”
“Well, these rabbits were tiny, and they escaped the box she smuggled them to school in,” Brennon resumes telling the story. “We spent the rest of the day rounding them up. Prim and proper, Ms. Hill was beside herself for the rest of the week.”
“I remember,” I say. “Ms. Hill was always the perfect picture of poise and elegance, but that day her hair was sticking out all over the place from her bun, and she had this lost look in her eyes like her world just shattered.”
“Thanks for that image of Ms. Hill,” he says in a whimsical tone. “I’d almost forgotten what she looked like.”
I chuckle and drink the rest of my Coke. “Better to forget her. She must’ve been the strictest teacher in the whole world.”
“Life was so much simpler back then, though,” he says and sighs.
And there’s so much longing and sadness in those words it makes my heart clench painfully.
“You don’t have a good life back in LA?” I ask automatically, only aware of how prying and personal the question sounds once it’s out of my mouth.
He grins. “It’s a great life. I love my MC brothers. But just lately, it’s been . . .”
He pauses, and his eyes cloud over. Then he clears his throat and grins. “Just one thing after another, you know? But it’s nothing that you need to know about.”
“I want to,” I hear myself say.
And it’s totally true. I want to know everything about his life. The good, bad, and the in-between.
He shakes his head and just gazes into my eyes like he’s seeing something very pretty and desirable in them. But also, like, he’s seeing something he can’t have.
Then he shakes his head. “Man, I wish I didn’t have to leave you tonight.”
“Then don’t,” I suggest. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve had as much fun as I’ve had with you.”
Being this totally honest about my feelings is not my strong suit. I’m usually a lot more careful about who I bare my soul to because I’m always afraid I’ll get shot down and rejected and hurt. But I don’t fear that with Brennon. I feel like I could tell him everything and anything.
He smiles sadly and continues to just gaze into my eyes.
“I’ve had the best time, too,” he says after a while. “We have to do it again very soon.”
Then he turns away, takes his wallet from his pocket, and calls for the check.
“I wish we didn’t have to say goodbye again so soon,” I tell him as we’re standing on the sidewalk by his bike.
His eyes bore into mine again for a couple of seconds, causing all sorts of emotions to flare up inside me—desire, sadness, regret, happiness, and homesickness all rolled into one.
Then he leans in and kisses me.
It’s a hungry, passionate, yet soft and caring kiss that makes butterflies flutter to life in my stomach and sends electric shockwaves all through my body.
This is the kiss.
The kind I read about in every romance novel I ever edited. The kind I’ve seen in every romantic movie ever. The kind I’ve never had from any other guy.
But it’s also a goodbye kiss.
CHAPTERFIVE
Sarge
I can’t remember the last time it rained in Los Angeles, so of course, there had to be a thunderstorm when I was ten minutes away from being back at the clubhouse. The droplets started out slow and have progressively gotten worse. They’re coming down so hard that it feels like giant ass bugs are whacking me at sixty miles per hour.
